Shadows
by Firenze.Sun
Summary: Because there are things that no man should see and Watson saw them. 'John…' complained Holmes imploring. 'Please, don't…'. Angst, Gore. Shwatsonlock. Slash.


Well, I made this fic inspired by the collab that are making togetherYuanFanGirl(dA) and Feriowind(dA)  
Dark!Watson took control of me too!

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**Shadows**

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He should have known it from a beginning, he should have noticed it the first time he saw him. Or maybe he did, but he decided to ignore it. He had always been right, if he let his emotions enter he system, it would cloud his juice, distorting his reason. And it was that the first time he looked John Watson into his eyes, his fate was sealed. He had been able to correctly deduce his profession and he previous stay in Afghanistan. And even, he had noticed that slight but dark shadow that inhabited his soul. But he attributed it to the horrors of war that he hadn't got over yet, and that time would take care of erasing. He was tight in one part, but on the other hand, he was making the biggest mistake of his life.

And years had gone by, and Sherlock Holmes couldn't help but to fell in love with his roommate. And apparently, he had the luck that his feelings were reciprocated. During nights they made love and became one. Among that time the nightmares that used to terrify Watson were disappearing and the detective was the happiest man in the world.

But soon things started to change, the shadow hadn't left from the doctor but it had enveloped his heart and the darkness had taken over his soul. Because there are things that no man should see and Watson saw them.

'John…' complained Holmes imploring. 'Please, don't…' he tried to contain his voice, avoiding it from becoming a sob that made him angrier.

'Shhh…' shushed him Watson. 'Don't speak.' he said with that dominant tone that let be glimpsed the danger of confronting him.

And he fiercely kissed the other one, who with a moan of pleasure and pain that reached the soul; he tried to hold the tears. He bitted his lips until he made him bleed and he drank with lust that blood. His wrist hurt Holmes because of the pressure that his lover exerted on them and however, when they were released was when he feared the most. Now Watson's hands held the knife. He tore apart the detective's shirt, tracing a line of blood along the other's stomach. Then, he drank that red liquid as the thirstiest of vampires. And the moment came in which he took care of his pants.

'Don't move.' he said.

But there was no need for him to say it because Sherlock wouldn't do it, the frightening that invaded him was too big. One fake movement and it would be the end. However, the doctor knew exactly what he was doing; he knew the exact pressure that he should exert to caress with the blade of his knife the half-hard erection of his lover without hurting him. Slowly, he started to lick his member, until it took it more straighten form. But there was no play without pain and when the other one wasn't going to be able to hold for long, he bitted the top and smirked when he heard his whines. And once again, the knife started to caress the red zone, without hurting but always threatening.

Sherlock Holmes was afraid of his partner; he was the only one capable of making him feel true dread and to make stand on end every inch of his skin. He knew that he would never hurt him, but at the same time he knew that he was completely capable of doing it. The metallic sound against the floor told him that the foreplay was over. Who once was his best friend raise upon him, Holmes opened his legs intuitively and then, he was penetrated by him. Just like that, without oil our preparation. Rough and savage. Without giving him time to get used to the intrusion, he started to move inside him. The pain went though Sherlock as a sword that went in and out. Soon, a hot fluid started to run inside the fusion, blood that gave away the brutal act that was being done. Yet, time managed to make him extract pleasure from that torture. While the tears rolled trough Sherlock's cheeks, Watson was claiming him to himself because he was his. And there was a shred of tenderness in that sadist encounter.

Finally, with a scream in where both names were heard, the two of them reached climax. The most famous detective of the world cried in silence. He was tired of all this and they were uncountable the times that he wished he died and that ill-fated knife that Watson liked to play with was irremediably buried in his heart and put an end to everything. He couldn't run away because Watson would found him and at the same time he could never leave him.

'I love you.' Watson said.

Sherlock Holmes didn't say anything because he knew it was true. It is that during that instant in which they made eye contact he could glimpse that man he had fell in love with, sweet and kind, and not that sadist and bloodthirsty being that he hated. And that man seemed to ask forgiveness for subjecting him into that devil's act. A couple more of tears fell, while he yearned for those old times when everything was so easy and joy still inhabited his days. When darkness was nothing more that a distant visitor from nightmares. The days when the two friends could spend time together in front of the fireplace and tears weren't the mattress of the privacy of their rooms.

'I love you too.' answered Holmes.

And it was that he would never leave, he never could. He would follow at his side waiting that one day the shadows that the war scar had left go away and return him his dear Watson.

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Well, hope you liked it. And be comprensive it's my first time with some _try_ of real porn.  
Comments and tomatoes are welcomed!


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